My Princess
by stoneygem
Summary: In retrospect it was inevitable that they get married....C
1. Chapter 1

A/N: For this little story you have my mother to blame. grin On my birthday she told me a story about some childhood friends of hers and it just wouldn't leave me alone until it was written out... So, I hope you do enjoy this...

Disclaimer: I still own nothing...sniff

**"My Princess"**  
Part 1

In retrospect it was inevitable that they get married. If she was completely honest with herself, she had always known that one day they would.

Clarisse leant against the window frame in her bedroom. It was still very early in the morning, the palace asleep for the most part, but she had awoken and not been able to drift off again. Too many thoughts were running through her mind, too many sensations travelling her body. She'd rather gotten up than disturb Joseph with her tossing and turning. He did need his sleep after all.

Only clad in her silk robe she stood by the window letting the first rays of the sun warm her. Admittedly, Clarisse felt somewhat awkward. Being nude underneath her robe was a sensation she was entirely unaccustomed to. Yet she couldn't be bothered with dressing. Any bit more of clothing would have been too cumbersome, too restrictive. That she couldn't have bared this morning. Not this morning.

Too many walls were broken down last night and too many masks abandoned. It would have been a lie to wear a nightgown or a pyjama now. And lying was something Clarisse did not want to do to herself anymore.

Looking over to the bed, the smile came unbidden, but inexorably. The sight of her husband lying naked among the rumpled sheets sleeping deeply warmed her entire being and made her heart soar. Her husband. Her prince.

"Will you move into my sandcastle with me, Rissie?"

"I can't Joey. We've got to be married to move into the same house." The voice of the four-year-old girl sounded utterly shocked at the mere suggestion. That was not done. No proper girl lived with a guy without being married. Momma had said so.

If the girl's was a picture of shock, then the three-year-old boy's was one of frustration. Girls were so complicated. It was just a sandcastle and he only wanted to play. It was a great sandcastle and he was proud of it. And they could play knights and pirates in it. Rissie usually loved such things and she had lots of ideas.

Why was she saying such stupid things now? They didn't need to be married for the big battle. Who married for playing anyway?

Still, young Joey wanted to play in the sandcastle and he liked Rissie to play there too. She was okay for a girl, most of the time.

He scrunched his nose in serious thought and looked into the expectant face of his companion. Finally, his small dark face lit up in decision.

"Okay, you win. So, will you marry me, Rissie?"

The girl eyed him for a full minute, the glint of mischief well hidden in her blue eyes. Then all of a sudden, she leapt to the other side of the sandcastle. "No!"

A second later the first fistful of sand hit the small boy.

Joey was indignant. Gathering a fistful of sand himself he threw it at the girl on the other side. "You will! Because I am a prince and you are my princess. And princes always get to marry their princesses."

The man on the bed moved in his sleep, unconsciously seeking a source of more warmth. The sheets bunching around his hips provided a rather lovely view for the woman at the window, but could not keep the chill away from the sleeping man.

Clarisse smiled tremulously. There was so much to love and so much to be grateful for. So many memories. That had been the first marriage proposal she had received over a sandcastle. She chuckled. That day was still one of the fondest memories of her life.

Joey – her beloved companion of early childhood. The son of her mother's maid. Her favourite playmate in the vast gardens of her father's estate. They had been inseparable – she and her prince.

"That is my squaw, so stay away from her." The boy's dark eyes were shooting fire at his companions.

Nicolo, one of the older boys instinctively took a step backwards. It was no fun to get into trouble with Joey Romerro. That boy was one of the best playmates in the neighbourhood, but you'd better not come too close to his princess. Or his squaw for today's game. The idea had been great. They'd play cowboy and Indians and the girls were either the cowgirls or the squaws and the prises for the winning party. The little baroness was playing along as a cowgirl. Nicolo had to admit, he was impressed with the blond girl. She was nice and had no problem getting dirty at all.

But it had made Joey and his boys more determined to win their battle. Now, the baroness and that other girl were bound to the totem and awaiting their fate as prisoners. Nicolo, just like the great Old Shatterhand had come into the camp to demand the girls back.

But Joey, despite being much younger than Nicolo himself was obviously set on fighting to keep his prise.

"That is my squaw now, I won her." The five year old insisted.

"I'm not your squaw!" suddenly the blond girl yelled in rage. "Even Indians have to marry a woman, before she becomes their squaw. And you didn't marry me yet. So, I'm not yours."

The boys shot around, both in shock, but the older one fighting to keep in his giggles. That little baroness was even better than he had thought. With a barely visible wink, she signalled that she had discovered the ploy.

Joey and his boys would never know what hit them.

Joey turned to face his best friend with narrowing eyes. Honestly, where had Karl May ever written that Indians had to marry their squaws. Trust Rissie to make something like that up.

"You'll be silent, woman." He bellowed. "I'll marry you alright."

At that moment the yell of Nicolo's invading party sounded through the air and out of the bushes several boys and girls ran into the small clearing.

The two girls were unbound from the 'totem' and Elisha asked her companion: "You marry him?"

Rissie laughed "No."

"You will, because you are my squaw." A furious Joe yelled, while being dragged away.

The sun had risen higher. Therefore its rays were stronger now, warming her back. Yet, most of the warmth she felt came from the sight before her eyes. She could not get enough of it. Not this morning, not this week, not ever.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride…

She snorted mentally. How true. What a beggar she had been, always wishing and never knowing what for and why.

"Hey Romerro, happy for getting the chance to tag alongside your princess?" Dominic Mabrey gloated. At almost eleven years of age, the future Viscount stood tall and broad, towering easily over eight year old Joey.

He loved to torture the younger boy, who, despite his poor background was the star of Mertz' Elementary School. The poor little bugger had even managed to have the queen of the school, baroness Clarisse Gerard among his regulars.

That annoyed Dominic to no end. That little urchin had no right to be the star of the school and he certainly had no right to consort himself with a relative of the king. He, Dominic Mabrey, future Viscount, was the only one who should spend free time with Clarisse Gerard. They came from the same circles of society.

Yet, she seemed to be Romerro's best friend.

"Bugger off, Mabrey. Nobody has asked for your opinion." Nicolo interrupted and stepped between the two other boys. He knew Joey's explosive temper, when it came to Rissie. Anybody saying one word too many in that respect, quickly made acquaintance with Joey's fists.

However, that Mabrey-idiot apparently had not learned from his last experience. The new tooth had not come yet, but apparently Mabrey had already forgotten.

"Tell me, Romerro," Dominic went on, "how many of her father's shoes did you have to wipe this morning to be allowed to talk to her?"

The tale-telling sound of knuckles connecting with a chin sounded through the suddenly eerily silent schoolyard.

Upon his arrival Mr. Sagan, the teacher on duty only saw young Joey Romerro being restrained by his friends while baroness Clarisse towered over the Mabrey-boy, her fist still raised for a second punch. Her voice shook with rage, when she yelled at him: "Shut up, Mabrey! Don't you dare to insinuate that somebody has to pay for my friendship. Even if that were so, you could never find enough money to get it. I choose my friends and Joey is my best friend, so you better bugger off or I break your chin too."

"Anything the matter, children?" Mr. Sagan asked, pretending to be completely ignorant.

"No sir. Mabrey just stumbled and fell on his nose." Elisha Derrieux said innocently.

Sagan smiled inwardly. Another protector. This odd little couple certainly had some very good friends.

Pretending to inspect the scene again, as the children now released Joey from their grip and the boy immediately stood next to the blond girl, Sagan shook his head and said: "I do hope, you two will invite me to your wedding one day."

As he turned, he heard young Joey exclaim: "See, I told you I marry you one day, my princess."

He seemed to have known what had not come to her until a few hours ago. That it was fate. That there was no chance for them to be without each other. Of course, there had been times when she had believed it too. When it had been a lifeline, as a matter of fact.

"I'll wait for you, my princess. I always think of you and one day, I'll marry you and then you will never be alone again." He said earnestly, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her to him.

She looked so lost in her black clothes and he decided that he really did not like her in black. She looked good, of course, well despite the fact that she was a girl and he didn't really like girls at the moment, but the black seemed to be like a wall between them and walls was not something they should have. She was his princess and he was her prince.

"But you will forget me, when I'm so far away, Joey." Tears were running down her cheeks again.

Finally, she simply threw herself against him. "I don't want to go to that boarding school, Joey. I want to stay here with you and Nico and Lisha and with Rosa and my Mama, I want my Mama back... I don't want to go away." Rissie cried.

She hated her father for sending her away. Only because her Mama was gone she had to go away too. That was not fair. The tears fell harder and the sobs wrecking the thin body became heavier.

Joey helplessly patted her back. He hated it no less than she did. For all ten years of his life, Rissie had been with him every day. He could not imagine life without her. She was his best friend and his princess.

"I'll never forget you, Rissie." He whispered, his voice small and choked with emotion. "You are my princess and I'll always remember you…."

"Baroness?" the voice of Joey's mother sounded through the back garden. "Baroness, your father is looking for you. You must leave now."

With a heavy heart, Rosa saw the young baroness and her son sitting on the bench. Her heart ached not only for the angelic little girl, who had just lost her mother and was now sent away so that her father would not be bothered with her, but also for her own son. The children had been so close all the years and she feared that the vows, that had been made in jest so far would one day be spoken in earnest, but without hope.

Stifling her sobs, the young baroness got up from the bench, the mask of cool aloofness slipping easily onto her features. "Thank you, Rosa." She said regally, before the pain became too much and she threw herself into the woman's open arms. "Goodbye Rosa," she sobbed, "I'll miss you so much."

"And I will miss you baroness. You'll be good in that school, my little star. I don't want to hear any complaints, you hear me."

The girl only nodded solemnly, then turned around. "Bye Joey."

"Bye." He choked out.

Then, suddenly, they were hugging fiercely again.

"Will you marry me?"

Rissie laughed. "Yes, soon." Then just as suddenly, she kissed his cheek and ran towards the driveway, before anybody could see her new tears.

The lifeline had held out for over four years, along with the letters she received and wrote. Letters that spoke of a happy and carefree childhood with their friends, of fun outings, of freedom.

The lifeline of hoping to be returning soon and joining them again, when she was back for holidays. It always worked. During summer, she was back and was just Rissie. It was like her real persona that could stay there, while another person named Clarisse went back to the boarding school in autumn.

She wiped the tears that came unbidden away from her cheeks with the back of her hands. It was water under the bridge. She was here now. He was here now.

He stirred in his sleep turning over on his back. Her gaze was riveted on his chest. A more recent memory of her hands running over his chest, her nails grazing his skin, his aroused groan at the sensation came to her mind and she felt a warmth of excitement rushing through her body.

"Hey Joe, are you going to propose to her tonight again?"

"You'd like that just for your entertainment, right?" The teenager good-naturedly joked.

Still, Nicolo saw the hesitation in his friend. It would be better indeed, if Lisha did not hear that. Despite being friends with the baroness herself, she would not appreciate her boyfriend repeating this childhood habit again. The five years, Clarisse had already spent in the British boarding school, had done nothing to diminish the bond between Joe and his princess. Nicolo however guessed that this might be changing soon. There were rumours about the baroness and the plans that were made for her. Lately Clarisse had written much less frequently and her letters no longer contained questions about their life. She wrote politely and charming as ever, but something had changed. She had changed. Probably, she would not even appear at his graduation party.

The room became eerily silent all of a sudden.

The two boys turned and Nicolo felt his jaw drop. Gods, when had this happened?

She was a vision and every inch the baroness.

Joe's feet developed a life of their own. As a new song started, he walked over to her and reaching out to take her hand in his. When they began to dance, he knew that this was what he wanted to have forever. Holding her in his arms, smelling her sweet perfume and feeling her body sway against his; he had died and gone to heaven.

"My princess." He whispered as the music ended.

Nicolo approached them and took her in his arms. "I'm so glad you could make it."

Her smile, he noted, did not quite reach her eyes. "I would have never missed your graduation party, Nico."

He smiled back at her, mostly to reassure her, but also, because he found Joe's daze quite amusing. Good thing, Lisha had not seen that yet. There was danger ahead.

Suddenly, Joe started to speak and Nico almost choked. "My princess, will…"

Clarisse turned swiftly to him and her expression made it quite clear that she was not in the mood. "No, I will not."

With that she turned on her heel and left the party.

Nicolo was the only one, who ever heard the tale behind that day – the sudden flare of something completely unexplainable, when she had seen her prince and his girlfriend at the beach that afternoon.

Back then she was unable to put a name to that feeling and then, when she had had met her father, the information he gave her had so completely taken over her mind that she was able to put the uneasy feeling into the far recesses of her mind.

It had taken years until she was able to see the feeling of that day for what it was. And then it had been too late.

Clarisse shivered. It had taken her so long. So long until she had been able to put a name to that feeling of that afternoon. So long until she knew where it came from. The bad thing was that it had taken many years more until she had been able to act on it. Sometimes she had felt incredibly guilty. Sometimes she had felt incredibly sad.

So many years… so many years lost…

It was odd, despite having lived on this estate for all 18 years of his life; he had never been inside her room. For the son of a servant it wouldn't have been proper. The baron would have had a fit. He would have fit if they caught him tonight too. However, since he would leave tomorrow, he had to risk it.

"Rissie?"

"Joseph, what are you doing here?" her voice was a shocked whisper that came from the bay window. Obviously she had not been able to sleep either. Had she already heard?

"I've come to talk to you, before…"

She stood up from her seat and turned to face the window. "You'll leave for Spain tomorrow." Her voice sounded oddly detached.

"Yes. I…" suddenly he didn't know what to say anymore. His thoughts were so stupid all of a sudden. She was rich, a baroness of royal blood and he merely a servant's son with barely a handful of Gen D'ors to his name and a small scholarship. They had played together as children, but that was long ago. What had he been thinking?

"I wanted to say goodbye and to…" he broke up and stared into her face. That beautiful, angelic face that kept haunting his dreams. He didn't know why, he couldn't call it love, because how could it be? Yet…

"I wanted to ask you to come with me." He choked out. "I know, I can't offer you anything. Not the life you are used to and all that," he rambled on, "but you know, I just…"

He saw her swallowing and lowering her head as if she had to stall for time to find the right words. Squeezing his eyes shut, he braced himself mentally for what was to come.

"Joseph, I…"

"No. No. Don't say a word. I understand. It was a stupid…" He quickly took a step backwards, trying to escape her room and her gaze before he could make an even bigger idiot of himself.

She followed him, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. Stepping even closer, the fingertips of her left hand traced his cheek. "Joseph, no." A few tears were running down her face reflecting in the moonlight that shone into the room. "I can't. My duty lies elsewhere."

"Duty? Duty?" he asked incredulously.

She sighed. "Yes, duty. Tomorrow, the prime minister will announce my upcoming marriage to Prince Rupert. We'll get married in six weeks."

A punch in the face could not have had a more painful impact.

"You are in love with the crown prince?" His question was barely audible.

She lowered her head. "I'm going to be a good wife to him and a good mother to his children. And I'm going to be a good queen."

That was no answer to his question, but his brain was in a deep freeze. His entire system shaking with rage and disappointment, he turned on his heel and all but ran out of the room.

All of a sudden, the air was too thick for her. She couldn't breathe. Oh god, how often had this particular memory haunted her sleep. It was a nightmare. Every time, she had had that dream, she had woken up with tears spilling over her cheeks, her body drenched in cold sweat and her heart beating like a trip hammer. So many times had she wished that the night had unfolded differently? Yet, back then, she had not known any different.

She had not known, not imagined, how life would unfold. How much it would change – her, him, everything.

It was the nightmare of her existence. Just like the other was her gravestone.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

A/N: First of all, thank you to you loverly ladies who read AND reviewed. And thank you - I guess - to those other 93 people who only read...sigh Anyways, i thank you ladies for the great reviews that warmed my heart. I'm glad you enjoy the little rush through our couple's lives. And well...here is part two...and it's not getting any easier.

Enjoy

**Part 2**

He needed a drink. A double cognac. Hell, he should probably have the bottle nearby. What a horrendous day this had turned out to be. The verbal fight with Joe had just been the end of a charming and happy day utterly gone wrong.

Nicolo sighed and falling into the overstuffed leather chair, he took a large gulp of the velvety liquid. The cognac burned in his throat, numbing the pain his conscience inflicted on him. What had they done?

She was dead.

He sat in the chair, staring into the flames of the fire in the hearth and contemplated, how this could have happened. Of course, from the looks of it, everybody must believe that she was perfectly fine and every bit as cold, unfeeling and aloof as mean tongues suggested. But he had seen her eyes, had heard the undertone in her voice. The apologies for her son's behaviour. The apologies for her intrusion and for her imposition on them. He had seen the tears barely held back.

They had killed her. Rissie was dead.

The door opened quietly. Nicolo didn't turn. From the footsteps, he knew who it was. "Get a snifter and pour yourself a drink, Joe. You'll need it."

At age 30, Joseph Romerro, now called 'Joe' by just about everybody, was not used to receive orders outside his line of duty. Yet, he obeyed without hesitation. Quite honestly, he needed the drink. Seeing her again and in such a fashion, had turned his insides out. She was even more beautiful now than he had ever imagined in his wildest dreams. Eleven years and two children had matured the pretty teenager into a stunning woman, beautiful as a marble statue – and just as cold and lifeless. She did not see anybody; she did not talk to anybody as a person. She was no longer his princess. She was a nightmare.

"You behaved like an ass, Joe. We all did, you know."

Joe took a large gulp of his drink. "She certainly did." He snorted.

"No! You did! Lisha did. I did. We all did." Nicolo's voice was angry.

But Joe was not convinced. "Why did you invite her? She no longer fits here. She looks down on us normal people. We are not good enough for the queen." He sneered.

"She looked down on us? We looked down on her." Nicolo sprung up from his chair and started pacing. "Nobody of us actually took the time to talk to her. Talk to Rissie. We were all too busy impressing or rejecting 'the queen'. You, of all people, spited her. You did not even try to be civil."

"What did you expect me to do, Nici?"

"Don't call me Nici, Joe. You are no longer Joey. And you are not yet grown up enough to be Joseph. I invited the woman, because I thought that we had known and loved Rissie, we might meet and like Clarisse. But none of us made the effort to do so."

"I don't understand."

Nicolo smiled at his friend's utter confusion. "It is difficult, isn't it? I don't know. I only realized it myself after she left – in tears, by the way."

He sat down again and faced his friend. "Joe," he said in a pleading voice, "Rissie is dead. She doesn't exist anymore. She had to disappear, when our childhood friend became the betrothed and then wife of the crown prince. You stopped being Joey, when you made your career. You became Joe. So did she. Rissie had to make way for 'the queen' and I only understood today that there is a difference between 'the queen' and 'Clarisse'. Yet, none of us tried to see that today."

Joe stared at him. If this were true… Nicolo's voice interrupted the rise of desperate heat in his body. "You can't be Joey to her Rissie anymore. If you still want to be her prince then you must become Joseph. Joseph, who sees Clarisse behind the façade of 'the queen'."

The words sounded ridiculous, maybe Nicolo was drunk or had gone around the bend, but the words kept ringing in Joe's mind. If this were true…

She was dead. She finally understood it. She was finally dead. And buried.

She had stopped being Rissie a long time ago. In her stead, only 'the queen' remained. The tears rose from deep in her throat. She had had so many hopes for this afternoon. Nicolo and Elisha celebrated the christening of their first son, Antonio. She had been so elated, when the invitation arrived. The chance of seeing her childhood friends, seeing him again after eleven years, had given her step a spring that had lasted for two weeks.

She had never imagined, it would turn out so badly. The boys had been appropriately punished for their stuck up behaviour at the reception, but the pain and the embarrassment still stung.

What had made her believe she would be really welcome? Her desperate wish to be a human and female. Just a woman, visiting old friends with her children in tow. How wrong she had been.

From the very first moment, she had felt isolated. Everybody had nearly fallen over him or herself, bowing and curtsying before her. Nobody had even tried to hold a simple conversation with her. Finally, she had almost given up and tried to shrink into the shadows. She had already contemplated, how she could gather the boys and disappear without being seen.

Then he had arrived. Dressed all in black, black shades over his eyes, his head almost bald – he had looked every bit the mysterious modern hero. She had felt her breath catching. Good God, when had he become like this and why was a heat wave surging through her body, starting in her stomach and spreading all over her and finally centring between her legs. She could not put a name to this feeling, but she knew the feeling that followed right after this. It was green and burned like a poison. This stunning, curvy redhead on his arm.

In spite of this floozy, she had felt herself rising, making a step towards him, when he had taken off his shades and looked at her.

A bucket of ice-cold water could not have felt any worse. If looks were daggers, she would have been a bleeding heap on the floor. He hated her.

The tears of shock and pain had risen then and there and she had started to frantically search for her sons. She had to leave. She mustn't stay.

Then there was his voice, gentle at first, when he had talked to a child that had apparently ran into him. She had not even seen, who the child was, but then heard its voice and the actually innocent and excited words had cut her like a knife.

"You may not stand in my way. I am the crown prince of Genovia and I demand that you make way for me."

Pierre. How often had she told him to keep such words to himself. She knew that Pierre did not really mean them, but that didn't change their meaning and it did not change how people perceived them.

The room had become eerily silent, as if a bell had rung. She had closed her eyes, desperately wishing for the ground to open up and swallow her. Naturally that didn't happen. When she opened her eyes, she still stood among the guests who felt humiliated by her son. Gathering all dignity she owned and then some, she had taken the few steps to take Pierre's hand, then had turned and taken Philippe's hand as well. She could not bear to look into his eyes.

He was no longer Joey. Joey would have understood. Joey would have smiled at her. This man, Joe as everybody called him, hated her. He did not understand. She muttered an apology to him, did the same to the hosts and fled.

It was clear now. Rissie was dead, she should have accepted this a long tome ago. Nobody had wanted Rissie anymore and thus she died of neglect. Clarisse had yet to appear. If she ever did. It seemed to her that nobody wanted Clarisse either. The country needed a queen. Rupert needed a wife, who was the queen. The boys needed a mother, who prepared them to do their royal duties just like she did.

Rissie was dead. The princess was dead and her prince had done nothing to rescue her.

Clarisse wiped they tears away again. Why has she so reflective this morning? There was no need for it. Life was good again. She was good again. And he was with her.

She chuckled when she heard him mumble in his sleep. He was dreaming obviously. Apparently quite a nice dream, judging from the smile on his lips. She would have liked to know, if he maybe dreamed of her. Of last night.

Their wedding night.

Their incredible wedding night.

She had never known such a passion, such abandon could exist. She had never imagined it existed in her. Yet at the same time there had been so much tenderness and gentleness. So much patience.

After so many years of waiting, he still had the patience to let her find her way into their rhythm. He had the patience to wait until she had found herself in the frenzy of their love.

It was so unbelievable, now that it had happened. It was almost easier to believe in its believability, when it had seemed impossible that they'd ever see each other again.

It was a milestone, she was certain of it. For the first time in her marriage it would be her to honour deserving citizens and she could not think of another time she loved more to be the one to do it.

She had been so proud, when she presented Rupert with the list of citizens, who she had decided should be honoured today. Rupert had stopped at one name, turned around and smiled knowingly at her. "So you have finally found a reason to have Mr. Lancý honoured, my dear. I am surprised it took you so long."

She had simply smiled in return. There was no need to explain any more. Nicolo had not only been largely responsible for the thrive of Genovia's business with expensive paper, but also made a big influence in social projects for poor youth. He did deserve an honour.

Rupert had chuckled slightly again. "I know, I know, dear. He does deserve it, though I am not certain if he doesn't deserve it more for being such a good friend of yours."

"Do you approve, Rupert?" She had asked somewhat anxiously.

"Of course, I do. I trust your judgement Clarisse, you know that."

Now dressing for the official reception, Clarisse reflected on this exchange. Yes, Rupert trusted her. It had been almost ten years since the disastrous party and so many things had changed since then. She no longer had a prince. That was over forever. Joey and she were history.

She had a king now.

As ridiculous as it seemed, that party had been a good thing for her marriage. She and Rupert had found each other. They had not found love with each other unless one counted the love one has for his best friend. The romantic, passionate one – no, they did not have this and Clarisse doubted she would ever find out, if it existed. Yet, her marriage had been strengthened. Rupert was her best friend now and she would do everything for him. Everything.

And then there was Nicolo. She couldn't even begin to describe, how much she owed that man. When she had been at the lowest point in her life and the aftermath of that party certainly had been the lowest point, he had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, offering her his friendship again.

And in the new friendship, which he had build against all odds – against his wife's slowly waning jealousy, against the country's gossip, against Rupert's worried warnings of propriety, against her own insecurities – brought them together as new people. They were no longer Rissie and Nici as they had been. It was Clarisse and Nicolo again, grown up, with responsibilities and a position in life.

She would always be grateful for that. Rupert had finally understood this friendship and supported it. Of course, he didn't know everything. There was no need for that. Nobody would ever know. She wouldn't tell, neither would Nicolo.

If people did not get the idea from the money dropping into her private bank account every month, she didn't know, why they should.

Taking a deep breath, Clarisse squared her shoulders, fiddled with the hems of her jacket one last time and went to the throne room to do her duty.

The ceremony was a surprisingly enjoyable one. Clarisse wouldn't have thought that usually positively dull event could be so nice. But then, she had never been excited about one person receiving the honour before.

At the small reception afterwards, she mingled gladly, all smiles as usual. People greeted her respectfully with a bow or a curtsy and she returned those greetings with a nod or a few words.

Her direction was unerringly though and after only a few minutes, she was standing with Elisha and Nicolo in a quiet corner inquiring about the health of their children. Naturally, Clarisse's biggest interest was drawn to the newest accomplishments of her godson, Hector. The little boy had wormed his way into her heart from the first moment she met him. At age five he was strutting around and announcing that he intended to be the Queen's knight when grown up. The words of the boy never ceased to warm her heart. He reminded her so much of Joey then.

"Clarisse, are you well?" Nicolo's worried voice interrupted this particular train of thought. Elisha quietly added. "You have become awfully pale."

She held up a hand. "No. No, I am fine. I just need a moment."

It was then that a footman stepped up the trio asking Nicolo or Elisha to the phone. After a short unspoken discussion, Elisha turned and followed the footman outside to take the call.

Clarisse appeared calm outwardly, but all of a sudden she felt a knot of fear forming in her stomach. Joey?

As if the mere thought of her childhood companion had opened up the long dead connection, she suddenly felt as if this was about him. As if this call was about him and as if she knew that it would bring bad news.

"Clarisse, what is the matter? You look as if you would faint in a minute. You should sit down and have a glass of water." Nicolo was concerned. He knew, Clarisse sometimes had her moments and he had his own suspicions what brought them on.

He was a best friend of the queen and his business partners took a great interest in that fact. It had helped of course, just as much as the investment a certain royal had made into his venture with expensive papers. Mostly, however, he was friends with Clarisse.

Clarisse, who sometimes came over on Saturdays to read and play with the children and then charmed his lot, his youngest was already declaring himself to be her knight and her prince. Hector, why Clarisse had chosen that name for her godson he would never know, was perceived as a precocious little boy, but he and Lisha knew that the little one was absolutely serious about it. Hector was very much like Joe had been that age and thus it didn't surprise Nicolo at all that he had Clarisse wrapped around his little fingers.

Nicolo figured there were still two persons inside the body of Clarisse. There was the one, who never came unannounced, who was always grace, dignity and beauty personified. But there was also the one, who barged in at the oddest moments, usually in the middle of the night, flustered, confused and out of sorts.

Then she had her moments, when he wasn't entirely certain, where her mind was. In a memory, in the future? Those moments were Joe-moments, he knew. Moments, when Rissie reared her head up, not the child, but the young woman, who had been so inexplicably jealous of Lisha, the young woman, who had sobbed in his arms the night of her engagement announcement, because her secretly beloved had run off.

Sometimes he was worried. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot. Joe could sleep his way through as many beds as possible and Clarisse could play the happy wife and mother as long as she wanted, they were not over. He knew it and he feared for the moment they would realize it.

He looked into Clarisse's face. She was still pale, but the conversation with young Mr Motaz, who was quickly rising in Genovian politics, seemed to ease her tension a little.

The sound of quick footsteps made him turn. He felt the iron fist gripping his heart with all its might. Something was wrong. The children…

"Lisha!"

Her voice was shocked; cold somewhat numb, with the first traces of tears audible. "Nici, they shot him."

Their immediate surroundings became eerily quiet. Nicolo could feel the sudden silence like the ringing of bells in his ear. Shot?

The fist around his heart quickly unclenched, but closed again immediately. "Shot? Who?"

"Joe!" It was an anguished cry tearing from Elisha's throat.

Nicolo stood like a stone. Closing his eyes in agony, he only prayed that when he would open his eyes, he would see Lisha smiling at him, telling him that it was all just a very bad joke.

All of a sudden there was a heavy thud next to him.

When he turned, he knew this vision would be edged into his memory forever. Clarisse lay on the ground in a dead faint, her hand clenching over her heart.

* * *

So, what do you think now? Let me know and review...thanks 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Well, here we are again...with a new chapter and we are moving forward again...a few years into the future and? Enjoy reading.

"**My Princess"**  
Part 3

She had to sit down at the memory. Even remembering that moment made her knees go weak. He was with her now, safe and unharmed, the scars of those injuries and many others only faint traces on his skin, but the fear was still there.

It had taken a long time until she realized that the fear for his safety was a constant part of her life. Only last night could she finally admit it – afterwards, when his body lay heavily on hers, her arms holding him tightly to prolong and intensify their connection.

Her admittance, his smile and kiss. His assurances and her tears. The frantic words of love that were murmured and finally drowned out by moans and gasps of pleasure.

How could she have ever thought that they would be over? How much of a lie had that been? One of the many she had made to herself. And only the beginning of a web of lies she had spun around herself…

------

He didn't know, why he was doing this. It was practically begging for trouble. Yet, on the other hand, it would have been simply stupid to refuse this offer – and stupid was one of the things Joe Romerro prided himself not to be. In all actuality, he also knew that a person of his background was not given many chances and therefore had to take every offered opportunity. And admittedly, there was no chance that he would rise to a higher position anytime soon.

From all pragmatic angles there was absolutely no reason not to take this offer.

He was barely 45 years old and they offered him the topmost position. Head of Security. And they paid so much money, not only to get him out of his former contract, but also to lure him into that position that he had actually blushed, when he saw the amount. It was ridiculous.

So, pragmatically seen, he simply could not have refused this offer. Yet, he had battled with himself for weeks before accepting it.

Taking this position, would mean to see her again.

He had decided almost 15 years ago that never seeing her again would still be too early. He simply could not deal with her. It was a coward's way out, he knew, but having her face imprinted in his memory was more than he could bear.

They had assured him that he would work mainly with the king and the crown prince. As a matter of fact they had even written it into his contract. Still, he battled with himself.

How and why he had finally accepted, he couldn't say, but here he was in his car driving onto the grounds of the royal palace.

In a few minutes, he would start as Royal Genovian Head of Security.

Heaven help him.

--

Rupert had hired a new chief of security and she didn't like it one bit. Of course, such were decisions which Rupert still made alone, despite his state of health. She could accept this and usually held her breath about some of his more questionable acts. However, hiring a new chief of security and then from outside made her uneasy. It was too important a position, too close to their personal and every day life, too close to their life to be given to just anyone.

Thus she had voiced her uneasiness to her husband. The result wasn't pretty and even now, two hours later, Clarisse still fought to regain her control. Rupert's anger fits that were part of his quickly progressing illness came always unexpected and always so forceful that it took her hours to calm down again. He had never hit her in one of those fits – yet. She hoped, it would never go that far. Rupert would not be able to bear that thought.

Maybe that was why he had hired a new security chief, to have somebody who could not only protect them against outside forces, but could also protect them from him.

Rupert's illness was of this nature, the doctors had been quite clear about that, and at some point she would have to face it. However, this point was not reached yet and Clarisse wanted to concentrate on the matters at hand.

Her birthday celebration had to be planned. If it had been up to her, she would have preferred not to celebrate at all. All this fuss about just one day of her life, where was the sense in it. Just this year, all she wanted to do on her birthday was to get up early, take a horse and ride into the hills to spend the day in solitude. She didn't know where this sudden depression came from. 46 was no age and she certainly looked at least five years younger, not at all like a grandmother. Yet the thought of her granddaughter having entered school this year suddenly made her feel old. What had she accomplished in her life. One son, who considered himself a failure, the other having to leave his wife and child to fulfil a duty. She herself was being noted for being pretty and kind. What an accomplishment.

Love was not on her list of accomplishments. Neither was passion. She had once, as a teenager, in the long boring hours at her boarding school, devoured romance novels that were filled with passion and lust, with devoted love. Men worshipping the women they adored emotionally and physically.

She had long ago given up to believe that this would ever happen to her. She never spoke about this of course, but from snatches of conversation during high society balls all over the world she had gathered that it could not happen, if a woman had only one man. Clarisse had to take their word for it. All she had ever done with any man except Rupert were a few chaste pecks on the lips. Her encounters with Rupert… well, it wasn't bad. He had always been careful and gentle with her, but passion? It had not happened. Not for her at least, if for him, she did not know.

And here she was, almost forty-six years old and feeling like a frustrated virgin, who didn't dare to get closer to the boys at the other end during the school dance. A virgin? In many ways, yes. In other ways, she was more like an old spinster. Never been kissed, never been excited.

It was quite frustrating. And now she had to greet the new head of security, who would arrive today to inspect his new position, before he'd start next Monday.

There was something about this man, which she just didn't like. It was a stranger, who would invade their personal space and she could only take so many people being in her immediate surroundings. A stranger, who could order her around citing security reasons to make her do, what he wanted. She didn't like to be told what she had to do. In addition, there was this obnoxious amount of money Rupert had paid to hire this man.

Clarisse shook her head as she quickly strode down the corridor towards the grand staircase. How could any man be worth that much money – to be paid to his last employer and to lure him to Genovia. No security man could be that good.

Entering the large ballroom from upstairs, she took a moment to stop and gather herself. Despite her misgivings, this man, whose name she didn't even know… Honestly, could it be anymore ridiculous? She was supposed to greet a man, whose name she didn't know and whom she didn't want to be hired in the first place. Still, Rupert had hired him to such a close and personal position. If they got off on the wrong foot, it would be even more unpleasant.

Straightening herself and nodding to Carl, Rupert's assistant, who had suddenly appeared out of thin air, she stepped properly into the ballroom. This new security man was already there, scanning the room. Very punctual, she noted with relief.

With his back turned to her, she could not see his face. Nevertheless, Clarisse found herself taking an inventory of the man, who would be guarding them in the future. He was not overly tall, she noted, with slightly dark skin, bald and all dressed in black. He did not seem very imposing on first sight, but there was a panther like grace about him and an air that clearly demanded: 'Handle with care!'

The man turned, having heard the clicks of her heels on the marble staircase, and looked directly at her.

Suddenly, air was lacking. She felt her breath rushing from her body. Her mind went completely numb. Her body didn't fare any better. She felt her knees buckle and gripped the railing for support.

--

Fifteen years. Fifteen bloody years!

All this time he had spent trying to forget her, trying to erase her from his heart and his memory and what had it done?

Nothing.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered her to be. Aging was kind to her, in fact it seemed as if every year did more to her beauty, filling her body, smoothing the contours of her face, adding dimension to her grace. She was beautiful, his princess.

Only, she was his princess no more.

No more.

The assistant's voice brought him back to reality, where she had descended the rounded staircase with that odd guy, Carl, at her heels. Her face was composed showing no emotion; even her eyes seemed to have shut down to hide her emotions.

He was too intent on her face, thus missing the introductions the king's assistant made.

Even though she extended her hand, her warm voice saying: "Mr. Romerro, welcome to the palace." There was no warmth for him in it. She could have greeted any other new employee.

The thought brought his anger into move again. He nodded curtly, doing no more of a bow than necessary. "Your majesty, you can rest assured that I will do my utmost to guarantee the king's and the prince's security."

He saw her start a little. Yes, not hers, her husband's and her son's. He would make sure of this. The last thing he needed was to be in any kind of personal contact with her. Better, she knew that right away.

He straightened his posture and fixed her with a cold stare. The shock clearly showed on her face. His behaviour certainly wasn't proper, he knew, and not what one expected from a newly employed top official, but had no intention of leaving his point of view in any doubt.

Turning on his heel, Joseph left the ballroom without any greeting.

Fifteen bloody years of not seeing her. Twenty-five of trying to get her out of his heart and all she had to do was pale under his gaze, swallow heavily as if to suppress some tears and he had to run. Run from the urge to apologize for behaving like a jerk, run from the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her, tell her that everything would be alright. He was still her prince and she his princess and that he would marry her one-day and protect….

Carl ran after him, trying to talk some sense into that new security. It would absolutely not do for the head of security to insult the queen. She wouldn't stand for it. Honestly, a man worth that much money should have better manners. Looking back at the queen, he only caught a glimpse of her face out of the corner of his eye. Yet, this image would stay with him for the rest of his life.

-----

Fifteen years had made this day into one of the funniest things in her life. How angry he had been with her. It seemed so utterly ridiculous how their opinions were the same. She didn't want him on the job, he didn't want the job. At least not the part that included guarding her.

Sometimes she wondered, why Rupert had done it. He had accepted Joseph's demand to be responsible only for the king and the crown prince, but only a month later, had assigned Joseph as her personal guard.

Fate worked mysteriously.

This morning now – their first morning as a married couple – she was so very grateful for what seemed to be a big blunder of Rupert's.

This morning she was grateful and didn't dare imagine, if it had been otherwise.

* * *

Well...what do you say about this? Please leave me a message. And thank you to all those of you who did the last time...  



	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Here we are again. Years are passing and Joe and the queen are thrown together...unwillingly and? Please, read on and enjoy. Thanks...

**Part 4**

He was running around the palace like a madman and in a way, he believed he was. He had failed. Failed his job, failed his king, failed his queen.

He should have known better, should have seen it in advance. It was his job to protect the crown, to step in when somebody toyed with the crown's emotions. Even if it was the king himself.

The king had been taken to the hospital a few minutes ago, he was almost comatose after his fit and even though Joseph was worried about his monarch, whom he had grown to like over the last six years, he was more worried about Clarisse.

Of course, everybody in the immediate vicinity of the royal couple had known this day would come, dreaded it every day too, but nothing could have prepared them for the moment it finally happened.

The consequences were not imaginable yet. What would happen to the country? Philippe would have to take over fulltime soon, yet he wasn't completely prepared. It had happened so unexpected, despite their knowledge that those anger fits would grow more violent as the king's illness progressed.

Yet not even the king himself had been prepared for today and Clarisse had to suffer from it.

Clarisse.

Joseph quickened his step. He had to find her and soon. On top of the disaster, the sky looked ominously purple and black. They were in for heavy weather, probably a violent thunderstorm. It would not do for her to be out in the open during this.

Actually, in her condition it would not do for her to be alone anywhere. Reaching the stables, he quickly mounted a brown mare, mentally hatching a plan how to reach her favourite secret spots in the quickest fashion.

--

The wind had picked up noticeably, flapping the silk material of her blouse and jacket against her cold skin. What had possessed her to ride to the pond and step into it, she didn't know. Only that she had felt that the cold water would cool down the complete turmoil in her mind.

Oh God, why did this happen? Why did it have to happen?

It had been a rather stupid idea to wade into the pond, yet she had not seen any other relief for her body to calm down from its overdrive. If this was only the beginning...

Half of her face still stung where his palm had connected with her tender skin. If she were to check her arms, there would probably be forming bruises by now. The same would be said for her right leg, when she fell on it from the force of the blow.

She did not look. There was no sense in doing so and increasing her anger.

He had not meant anything of what had happened. She knew, he would never deliberately hurt her. It was the illness that was progressing too quickly now. The doctors had left no doubt about it: once it came to this stage, there would neither be a cure, nor anything that slowed the disease down. Rupert would be weakening rapidly now.

They had to prepare for the day, when it was completely up to Philippe to run Genovia. Only Philippe was not prepared. Nobody was. The only person remotely able to take over now was she.

Clarisse felt her throat constrict. The bruises would diminish soon, but the responsibility, the duty would grow out of epic proportion.

The thought of what she had to do, drove tears to her eyes. All those tasks: the day to day business, the planning, the representation, the visits, the people – how was she supposed to juggle all this? All in addition to taking care of her ailing husband and supporting and teaching their son? The tears were now streaming down her face, mixing with the rain that was pounding onto the ground.

Still standing up to her knees in the pond, her hair, her clothes soaking wet, she felt like the last person on earth, forced to hold it together with only her hands. She would have liked to scream to get rid of this pressure, scream to relieve the pain in her heart and in her mind. Scream for the utter unfairness of it all. Simply scream, because she knew no way out.

All of a sudden, she felt a hand grabbing her arm and pull her out of the pond. During the first seconds she was too shocked to react in any way, but as she felt herself being dragged further from the shore her shock turned into rage and fear. With almost superhuman effort she tried to break the grip of that person, whose face was hidden by the rain. However, even though she could not see this person clearly, she knew who it was. There was just something in his aura that gave him away.

She did not know what it was exactly. The tingling feeling that spread over her skin, when he touched her – usually by accident of course. Certainly not. That would mean that she was attracted to him and was unfathomable. Maybe it was the piercing gaze of his dark eyes, when they rested upon her. She had feared this gaze in the beginning of his work here. It was cold and businesslike, seizing her up, measuring her up against his standards and usually giving her the feeling that she fell short in his eyes.

She had learned to ignore it over the last six years. At least, she hoped she learned. Yet, judging from her current reaction to his nearness – No, she had not.

He sent the horses off with a strike on their sides, they knew where they belonged and would find their way to the stables. If the weather turned any worse, it would not be a good idea to ride anyway. Besides, they needed the time now and for what they had to do, he had to make sure that she could not escape him.

Taking shelter under the broad oak tree, he leant her against the trunk and gave her the once over. He winced at the visible handprint on her cheek that had become so hideously red against her paleness. Even more so, however, he cringed at the defeat in her stance. Her shoulders were slumped; the usual poise of her posture had disappeared. At this particular moment she looked old, older than she would probably ever become. Old, defeated and alone.

The thought came unbidden and turned quickly into another even more painful one. She was his queen – beloved and admired by the entire country and half of the world, yet when it really counted, she was alone. There were so many things she had to handle now and there was nobody she could confide in…nob…

"Why are you doing this?" Her voice sounded tired, but he could discern a good measure of anger behind her words.

Why did he do this, indeed?

"We have heavy weather forecast, your majesty. It is my duty to make sure that you are safe and well."

"Sod duty. Sod my welfare and safety. It doesn't matter."

He had almost expected this reaction, still it stung. Didn't she know that there was much more than his duty at work here. That despite all his promises to himself, all his heroic efforts to hate her or, even better, be indifferent to her, she was on his mind all the time. That he was deliberately taking jobs that bring him in her vicinity. That he was watching her every move to fill his mind with her. That his dreams often consisted of her smile and her laugh – that memories of childhood intermixed with visions of the future, where her smiles were for him alone?

No she could not know, she must not know.

Yet he had to make her listen to him. If he put it down to his duty, she would never see reason. Her stubborn streak was rearing its head and he knew from experience that she would not listen to anything businesslike. Judging from her stance, he had to bring out the big guns.

"My princess…"

They both flinched at his use of the old endearment.

"The princess is dead. She died, when her prince abandoned her." She took a deep breath.

All of a sudden, the scream that had been building in her body for some time, swelled in power. It started deep in her stomach, burning like bile, then travelled quickly up to her lungs, spreading its wings, blasted through her throat and finally tore out of her mouth with a force that frightened herself.

"THE PRINCESS IS DEAD! THERE IS NO PRINCESS ANYMORE!"

If it had not been for the lightening and immediately following thunder, he might have been deaf now. He stared at her in shock, at her wild eyes, her shaking body that he could barely hold up, her scream still ringing in his ears and for the first time in their 51 years of acquaintance he was afraid.

The madness and anger in her eyes changed suddenly to shock and fear, when she realized what she had done, how much she had revealed of herself.

Joseph traced a finger along her jaw, over her cheek, traced the shape of her nose, her eyebrows and her forehead and finally cupped her cheek. "Why?"

"Because you left her to die." Her voice sounded dead now, monotonous. "The princess needed her prince to go on and he disappeared, left her, abandoned her. When she needed him most, he was not there and so she had to make do and a little bit of her died every day."

He closed his eyes. He could not face her, when her words cut him like this. Her tone was not accusing. She spoke as if she merely told him a story. Maybe it was because of this that he felt as if…

"And finally the day came, when the princess made her last effort and went to a party, hoping to meet all her friends and find herself again in the process."

"Clar..…"

"But at the party, she realized that she had no friends anymore. And so her last hope was her prince, but all he had left for her was disgust." Clarisse swallowed heavily once, then again. "Disgust and hatred."

"No, no…" he was desperate now. Yes, he had been angry back then, disgusted even, but not with her, never with her. It was her position that set him off and the childish comment of her son. Her son who unconsciously made the jealousy rise up again.

He wanted to tell her that, wanted to assure her that he could never be disgusted with her, that his aloof behaviour was no more than a desperate attempt to protect himself from the never-ending fantasies, but she stopped him, before he could utter a word.

"So the princess realized that she had made way for another – a queen. And in the queen's life, there was no place for the princess. The queen could not have a prince, so she looked for her king and let the princess die."

The tears were streaming down her face again; mixing with the raindrops that splashed heavily through the leaves of the tree they had taken refuge under. Lightning and thunder were still rumbling through the sky, infrequently lighting up the dark world.

In those moments she was able to catch a good glimpse of his face. He looked haggard, weary and so worried. Yet his eyes were on her face as piercing as ever. His finger was still drawing invisible patterns on her face, as he seemed to work through a decision he had to make.

Without warning he pulled her into his arms holding her pressed tightly against his body.

Clarisse stiffened at first, not being used to such close physical proximity to anybody anymore, then relaxed into his embrace. Despite the wetness of his clothes, his body was warming her to her core. Her face pressed against his chest, while his arms held her cradled against his body and his hands stroked soothingly up and down her spine, the world was suddenly a warm and safe place.

"If the princess had to make way for the queen and can no longer reach out to her prince, then a knight will step up to protect and support his queen." He pushed her back a little to look into her eyes, but kept his arms firmly locked around her body. "So, my queen, fear not, for your knight will always be at your side. Always and through anything. Until one day, he has earned the right to see more than his queen…"

As if to seal his promise, Joseph leaned forward and tenderly brushed his lips over hers. "Until one day he has earned the right to see Clarisse."

-----

Clarisse awkwardly stepped from one foot to the other. She should have taken the second to slip her shoes on. But they were clothes and clothes were just too much this morning.

But now, her feet were cold. Actually, her entire body started to feel a bit chilly. How long had she been standing there already? Lost in her thoughts, while her eyes drank in the tranquil and blissful scene before her. Her knight was lying in her bed, naked and sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. A saucy grin settled on her face… oh she had tired him out already. Maybe the trashy romance novels she had secretly devoured as a teenager had helped along? And maybe the shiver travelling up and down her body underneath the silk robe was not from the chill, but…

Still, her feet were cold, much like that April afternoon nine years ago. Everything had seemed cold that day – cold, almost frozen. Except for that tingle of warmth his lips had left on hers and the patches of heat, his hands had left on her skin, where he had held her securely.

So bleak the world had seemed that day. If she had known the horrors and hardships still to come, she might have run and flung herself off the cliff that marked the border of the palace grounds. But amongst all the bleakness of that day, there had been something else:

Hope.

And a knight…

* * *

Well...what do you think now? Please, please leave me a little review to tell me...after all, reviews are my only reward and how shall i know if I'm not wasting your time, if you don't tell me...grin  



	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Well, here we are again...had almost forgotten that I need to update 'blushes deeply'. Still, I hope you enjoy this...second to last part.

And i know I said it before, but this is for my dearest partner-in-crime, **Posh**! because this chapter is just so us: the description, the setting, the dress, the music...just US! Luv ya...

**Part 5**

The party was in full swing, down in the party dungeon as the palace staff had named it. Everybody seemed to have a good time. The music was blaring out of the speakers, the alcohol seemed to flow freely and the first inhibitions were thrown away.

The guest of honour however eyed the proceedings with merely a raised eyebrow. On the inside he was close to shouting, yelling at them all to "Bloody bugger off!" He had not even wanted this party thrown for him. If he'd had his way, he'd probably gone for a nice dinner with Nicolo and Elisha, had a cake from the staff, a ridiculously teasing gift from Mia and a quiet but warm congratulation from Her…

And now he was stuck with this nightmare of a party. Mia had a good time, everybody could see it, but She had yet to make her appearance. He dreaded that moment. She would recoil from the mere noise and seeing Her staff so out of control…

"Good Lord, Joe, are they always like this?" Elisha asked, stepping next to him and pulling him into a relatively quiet corner.

The birthday boy shook his head. "Fortunately not. But it's the only time this Christmas season they can relax."

"They do it to the fullest I'd say" Elisha rolled her eyes. "Wonder how Clarisse reacts when she sees this." Joseph closed his eyes in pain at the thought. "And I wonder where my darling husband has disappeared to."

Joseph smiled and pointed to the other side of the room. "I don't think you have anything to worry, he's just coming down the stairs."

Nicolo, standing on the stairs, waved them over. Fighting their way through the throngs of people, the two friends finally managed to come within earshot.

"What is it?"

"Come with me, Joe. Your birthday present is finally ready."

The other man eyed his old friend suspiciously. "Finally ready?"

"Yeah, come along."

More than a little curious, Joe followed the couple, missing the wink that was exchanged between them. They climbed up the stone stairs and then made their way through a flight of hallways. And then another. And another.

After almost 20 minutes of going through hallways and climbing stairs, he was ready to call it quits. His present could wait. What if She arrived at the dungeon in the meantime? And he wasn't there to protect Her?

"Nicolo…"

"Hush."

"Nicolo!"

"We are here, okay." Nicolo turned and pointed to a door with a grand gesture. "Your birthday present is just in this room. And don't thank us," he added with a teasing grin, "we merely delivered. Enjoy yourself. And do everything we would do… well, maybe more"

Nicolo and Elisha laughed and holding hands quickly walked the corridor back.

Joseph stood before the door completely bewildered. There was his present? How odd.

He stood and contemplated his options for a second. If he just threw a short look at it and then returned to the party, he might still manage to be there before She arrived. This way, he…

Gathering his resolve, he quickly opened the door and felt his breath leaving his body at once.

There was a small end table in a corner full with burning white candles and a stereo that was playing soft music, a tango. There were candles all over the room illuminating every nook and cranny. There was another end table carrying a bucket of wine and two glasses already filled. Other than that the room seemed to be empty.

Stepping into the room, Joe felt himself start to smile. If he had a comfortable chair in here, it would be almost perfect. Almost…

"I thought that without an audience you might enjoy this a lot more." The gentle smile in her voice was obvious and so her. He turned slowly and felt his breath hitch again. The pale blue dress. She wore the pale blue dress.

The moment he had seen it in this shop window in Paris and pointed it out to her, the idea of her wearing it had filled his fantasies. She had smiled at him back then too, but dismissed the dress as too daring, to short and generally improper for a queen of her age. He had been severely disappointed, but it wasn't his place to give advice on Her Majesty's choice of wardrobe anyway.

"Your Majesty…" Joe finally managed to choke out. "What is all this?"

She seemed shy, almost timid before his eyes. Her voice betrayed her nervousness. "Erm… it is your birthday present. You mentioned during the ball last Sunday that you would like to dance an evening away with a good partner." She stopped and swallowed nervously, a blush creeping over her cheeks. Finally she raised her eyes to his and in that moment he would have liked nothing more than to take her into his arms and kiss this angelic face.

"And you thought, you offer yourself for it, your Majesty."

"Well, yes. And…"

He smiled: brightly, happily and well, happily. "I'd be delighted, your Majesty.

Joseph held his hand and when she put hers into his, he bent to press a kiss onto the back of her hand.

As she finally came to rest against his body and they started to sway to the slow and sensual music, she raised her head to lock her gaze with his and raised her hand to cup his cheek. "It is Clarisse, Joseph. It is Clarisse."

* * *

Well...what do you think about this surprise? Let me know, please... 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I know, long time no see...I had all but forgotten about this chapter 'deep, embarrassed blush'. Anyways, here it is...the final chapter of our walk through our couple's life. Last chapter we saw a lovely and meaningful surprise, which I have not extended, Fran - sorry. And this chapter? How does it all end?

Enjoy reading...

And THANK YOU to all you wonderful people who reviewed. You made my heart swell and feel warm and loved. Kisses to all of you.

**Part 6**

It was incredible, how so few words could open up a whole new world, a whole new meaning. Through those few words years of distance, of adversity had been put to rest.

It had been another chink in the wall, Clarisse had built up around herself. Another small step to draw the dead princess out of her tomb. That night, more than ever before, Clarisse had fought herself free of the duties and the constrictions and restrictions that kept her caged.

They had danced for hours, not caring for the music that played, not caring that the candles burned lower and lower, completely forgetting that others might be looking for them.

When she closed her eyes Clarisse could still feel his hands on her back, on her waist, on her hands. They had guided her in dancing, guided her into a world of feelings and sensuality and she had gladly lost herself in it.

If Joseph had asked her that night to sleep with him, Clarisse would have been perfectly willing. Actually, she remembered with a blush, she had almost asked him to follow her into her bed. Who would have known? Who would have been hurt, if they had given in to their desires? She wanted him and he wanted her. It was as easy as that.

And yet…

"You know," came an amused voice seemingly out of nowhere, "I always thought you had something divine about you, but now I am sure you must have come from the heavens above."

Clarisse jumped at the words, not being used to have another person in her bedroom at this time of the day.

Seeing his wife…his…his wife, the thought almost made him choke, seeing his wife so startled, Joseph quickly got out of the bed. "Darling?" he asked concernedly. "Darling?" He tenderly cupped Clarisse's cheek, but she seemed to have fallen into a completely different world.

"Darling?"

Finally, the glazed over expression in her eyes disappeared and was replaced with something entirely different. Joseph knew that feeling well, had suppressed it, fought it, denied it for years, but seeing this feeling so completely taking over his wife's features he could not help but be aware of the response it drew from him.

It was desire.

It was lust.

It enveloped the couple in an irresistible web.

"My, you are so magnificent." She breathed, not able to force her voice to a stronger tone. Not able to tear her gaze away from his body.

Her hands found his shoulders without thought and she ran them over his arms and shoulders as if in slow motion.

Joseph felt himself respond to Clarisse's caress, circled her waist and drew her body to come resting flush against his. Nuzzling her neck, his hands wandered and opened Clarisse's dressing gown.

"So are you, my love." He growled, "Magnificent and perfect and divine."

The expensive silk fluttered down onto the floor, leaving the couple standing naked in front of the windows. They did not feel the chill from the cool morning anymore, for the sun had finally completely risen up bathing them in its golden lights and warmth. But more than that it was their love and the heat of their embrace that warmed them.

As their lips met, it was as if a current of passion had been opened.

The last coherent thing Clarisse could utter for a long time was "You were also right."

It was a long time later that her words finally registered. They lay among the rumpled sheets, their bodies still entwined, their hands lazily stroking the other's skin.

"Why was I right, my darling?"

Clarisse smiled broadly. There was nothing to curb this expression. Try as she might, she knew she'd probably light up every room today.

So happy. So gloriously happy.

"It is a fairytale I have heard of."

Joseph raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me." He was in the mood for a fairytale. Heck he was in the mood to hear her reading Genovia's telephone book to him today. Gently cupping his wife's cheek he felt himself drowning in her eyes, in her glorious smile. "Tell me…"

Struggling upwards, Clarisse placed a tender kiss against his chin, then laid her head back against his chest. Feeling Joseph's arms tighten around her, she began to speak.

"Once upon a time, in a small village by the sea, there was a princess. She was young and naïve, but happy for she had everything: a happy family, friends and her prince. She always felt secure, because she knew that her prince would always protect her. He even promised to marry her one day."

Joseph felt a grin spread over his face. It was silly really, but too beautiful.

She paused for a moment and he knew that this was hard for her. Therefore, he tenderly kissed her hair and stroked her back soothingly.

"But then one day, things began to change for the princess. Her mother died and she was sent away from her friends, but mostly from her prince. The only thing to keep her going for years was the thought of her prince and his promise to marry her in a few years. But one day, when she came home, eager and excited to see her prince, she saw him kissing another girl and her heart broke."

"My God Clarisse…"

"No, love." She tenderly ran her palm over his face, smoothing out the shocked expression on his face. "It is alright." Clarisse smiled "It is a fairytale, remember."

Joseph settled down on the pillow again, the knot of tension only slowly easing off. She had seen and been…

"A few years later, the princess found out that all her dreams and hopes of being with her prince had always been in vain. Plans had been made for her years ago that were to be put into reality now. She was afraid and angry, but she was a coward as well, for her prince asked her to run away with him, yet she didn't.

Instead, she went on with the plans made for her and married a king. She became a queen and a mother and she was content, but she never forgot her prince and it was killing her inside to know that nobody wanted the princess anymore.

Then one day, she was to meet her prince again. The princess was very nervous about this meeting, afraid yes, unsure yes, but at the same time she was excited and hopeful. But the meeting didn't go well…"

"Because her prince treated her cruelly and heartlessly."

Clarisse smiled tremulously, seeing the pain in Joseph's face, hearing it in his voice.

"He was so overwhelmed by their meeting, having told himself that she would have simply grown older and stuck up. But when he saw her, he felt his heart stopping, felt desire for her overwhelming him, felt his love for her swelling in his heart. And when her son made this childish comment, jealousy coursed through him stronger and hotter than anything ever felt before. And…"

"And again the princess took the coward's way out and ran away and buried herself alive. To be the queen she was expected to be. The years passed by and the queen learned to cope with her life and be content for she had finally friends again. Still, at the back of her mind there always was a prince and one very dark day she had to face the fact that her prince was in her heart as well.

One day, she stepped into a room and saw him. He was no longer her prince, not even a friend, but he was there and from that day on the princess' world started to return to normal. Years later, on another very dark day, this same man promised her to be her knight. To protect her and to love her until the moment they would finally be prince and princess again."

Joseph brushed his lips over her temple. "Did he keep his promise?"

She threw her head back and laughed in delight. "Oh yes, yes he did. He was the princess' knight until the day she came alive again and made good on the promise her prince had made her."

His forehead crinkled in thought. "What promise was that, my love?"

"One day, I'll marry you, because I am your prince and you are my princess. And princes always get to marry their princesses."

Joseph couldn't help it, he laughed. And laughed. After minutes of mirth, he calmed down a little, but seeing the tears of mirth in his wife's eyes set him off again.

Their laughter filled the room, resonating from the walls, sounding into the morning air through the open windows. Outside, the gardeners doing the early morning chores exchanged glances unable to suppress their amused grins.

"Does this fairytale have a happy ending?"

"One glorious day in summer, the princess received a nudge from a most unlikely source and married her prince. It was all she had ever wanted. Finally, her prince was hers indeed. And the morning after, the princess woke up in the prince's arms, they kissed each other tenderly and lived happily ever after."

Pushing herself up and peering into her husband's face, Clarisse grinned. "So, how do you like my fairytale?"

He grinned and was about to answer, when the phone ringing saved him from giving a outrageously sweet answer.

Muttering a few surprising choice words, Clarisse answered the phone. Joseph was annoyed at the interruption, wondering what idiot had not understood the clearly stated "Do not disturb!" but then he saw Clarisse grinning at the words of the caller.

"Uhm…let me ask him," she said into the receiver, then covered it with her hand and turned to Joseph. "Are we up for dinner in Mertz tomorrow night?"

Joseph frowned. "Must we?"

Clarisse nodded with a grin. "We'll be there, Lisha, though I can't guarantee that my darling husband will be in any sort of a companionable mood by then. Right now, he is sporting the biggest scowl." She grinned again, then blushed at the advice she was obviously given. "I'll try my very best, Lisha. Thanks. Say hi to that husband of yours from us."

Replacing the receiver back on the phone, Clarisse propped herself up on Joseph's chest.

"Nicolo and Elisha expecting us to show our faces for dinner tomorrow? And apologize for not having them at our wedding?"

"Yes, my prince."

"We go then?"

"Yes."

"Tomorrow night?"

"Indeed."

"But until then?"

"Just you, my prince, and I."

Joseph grinned again at the utter perfection of this agenda for the day. Leaning forward, he drew her face closer to his until their lips were scant inches apart.

"Rissie…"

"Joey…"

* * *

Well...that was it...i hope you enjoyed the story...this part especially...please leave a review and let me know. Thank you. 


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